The King of Cups is a father figure—gentle, considerate, friendly, caring, and sentimental. He’s a deep man with a quiet demeanor and quiet power. He is interested in the arts and may like expressing himself creatively, or he may prefer enjoying others’ creations.
Selene opened Jorrvaskr’s heavy, wooden doors and lugged the sack of heads inside. She was surprised they didn’t stink with decay, but they actually smelled better than the witches did when they were alive. Maybe their body composition somehow kept them from rotting. In any case, it had been encouraging to walk into Breezehome and not be attacked by the odor of dead hagraven. She was sure Lydia was just as glad. She wasn’t sure, however, if walking into Jorrvaskr would be as heartening. She still had no idea what she was going to say to Vilkas or even if she was ready to forgive him. Besides, who knew if he was ready to forgive her? She had said some hurtful things to him too. Fortunately, he wasn’t in the mead hall when she entered, giving her at least a few moments’ reprieve.
Although Farkas kept his room at Jorrvaskr, he spent most of his free time at Breezehome with Selene. Once in a while, he even referred to the house as “home.” She stayed cautious, still of the belief that something would happen to ruin all the good in her life; but for the moment, she was happy.
Selene never knew where Aela got it, but the Huntress came up with information on the Silver Hand on a regular basis, and the two of them embarked on a quest to avenge Skjor. By the first day of spring, they had routed six hideouts and killed no less than thirty Silver Hand. On some level, Selene felt what they were doing was wrong, but every time she entered a lair and saw half a dozen werewolves being tortured or already dead, her vigor and righteous anger was renewed, and she cut the Silver Hand down without mercy or regret. When uncertainty reared its ugly head, she talked to Farkas, who was all for her mission.
Selene walked through the door into a sprawling room with a fire pit surrounded on three sides by a big, U-shaped table and space at either end of the hall for socializing or resting. The crowd gathered at one end didn’t appear to be resting, though; they were watching a fight. Then again, maybe this was how the Companions relaxed. Njada duked it out with a male dark elf as the others egged one or the other on. They were pretty evenly matched, but it appeared Njada had the advantage. Selene watched the bout, which carried on for several minutes, until a rough-looking Nord noticed her and came over.